Pancakes and Ugly Christmas Sweaters
by 00Ninja
Summary: Francis enjoys his Christmas Eve morning while Matthew makes breakfast for the family. Matthew tries to convince Francis to wear a Christmas sweater, but Francis hates them with a fiery passion. Will Francis give in or will his contempt for the festive wear keep him from making Matthew happy? Pairings include Franada and brief UsUk.


This is a fic is dedicated to fellow fanfiction writer, Q Scott. Amazing girl who deserves a lot of love, and one of my best friends. Enjoy!

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Francis sat in the warm, cozy living room of his lover's home in Toronto, blithely sipping a mug of hot cocoa, courtesy of said significant other. The crackling sounds of the warm fire, faint Christmas carols, the slow repetitive motions of the electrical Christmas decorations, Matthew rummaging through the kitchen, and Alfred screaming at the computer in the room upstairs completed the holiday atmosphere. He continued to sip slowly at his mug, savoring in the taste of the sweet chocolate accompanied with the rich cream that overwhelmed his taste buds As the creamy substance slipped down his throat, he could feel the heat spread through and warm up his body. Francis would have to compliment Matthew later for putting just the right amount of chocolate, half-n-half, and love into the divine concoction.

Francis leaned back in his huge recliner chair and observed the room around him. Streams of fresh garland accented various places of the living room and a large Noble Fir stood tall and bright with glittering lights and dazzling ornaments, most prominently of red, white, and blue with the occasional maple leaf and super hero hanging off its branches. Although the Christmas tree was not a tradition that originated in France (it was actually more of a German thing) he admired it and appreciated that each member of their strange and dysfunctional family was represented somehow on its lovely limbs.

Francis removed his gaze from the Christmas tree and glanced at the mantle, which was decorated with a long line of fragrant garland, shining lights, four large stockings, and a slightly smaller one hanging gracefully above the fireplace. Each stocking had been embroidered by Arthur, who had made all of them with a classical Christmas design but with a personal flavor of each family member on their respective stocking. For instance, he would stitch on a nation's tiny flag in the top left-hand corner, only slightly covered by the stocking's fluffy white trim. The stocking furthest to the left happened to be Francis's, which had an elegant embroidery of Père Noël. Next to his stocking was one with a beautiful Rudolph wearing a star spangled bandanna wrapped stylishly around his neck. Next came a stocking designed with a scene of small polar bear surrounded by maple leaves. The final large stocking displayed beautiful angels and one tiny, mint-colored rabbit with matching green wings. Why Arthur stitched such a bizarre creature on his stocking, Francis would never know. The last and smallest stocking was much simpler than the others, with only a mere paw print stitched on. That one was Kumajiro's.

Francis's eyes moved to linger on the four different pairs of military boots on the floor just beneath the fireplace. He remembered how he insisted that they use shoes instead of stockings, too proud to give up his French Christmas traditions to the likes of British and American. The issue was rather trivial, and it was probably just another excuse for Francis and Arthur to argue, but Matthew was ingenious enough to draw up the perfect compromise of simply having both stockings and shoes. Francis eased back into his chair and smiled at how sweet and thoughtful Matthew was. Really, just everything about that boy Francis could sincerely say he loved. The way his wavy hair framed his handsome face and how that one curly strand always drooped above his forehead. The way his eyes showed that sweet gentle calm of the lavender twilight sky. The way his smile displayed that attentive gentleness that let everyone who saw it know that when they needed someone to listen to their woes, Matthew was that someone. The way his cheeks and tips of his ears would turn a lovely shade of rose when Francis had whispered a rather suggestive line of French into his ear, and the way the corners of Matthew's mouth would turn into a coy smirk when he would whisper something back. The way his strong arms held Francis when he himself felt like he couldn't go on with the world. The list could go on, but Francis could summarize everything by saying that Matthew was simply perfection. Said perfection was currently in the kitchen making the family chocolate chip Christmas pancakes. Francis had been making breakfast for the family for the days leading up to the big holiday, but today on Christmas Eve, Matthew had felt that Francis deserved a break and decided to make his renowned pancakes.

An abrupt shout from upstairs and what sounded like something being thrown at the floor made Francis jump a little in his chair. "DAMMIT YOU SON OF A BITCH. I WANNA PLAY ZOO TYCOON!" Francis gave a light chuckle. Alfred's antics always managed to put a smile on his face. Shortly after the commotion, the door to the kitchen opened and out came Matthew wielding a spatula with a great big smile on his face.

"Breakfast is ready! And Alfred, don't break anything!" Matthew cheered. He skipped over to a beaming Francis. Matthew bent down and planted a big kiss onto Francis's cheek. "Hello, dear, and how is your cocoa?"  
"Parfait, mon petit chou fleur. I can just taste the love," Francis replied with an overzealous tone and returned a peck onto Matthew's nose. Matthew flushed and smiled at his partner.

"You give me too much credit, but I did get my culinary prowess from the best there is. Don't tell Feliciano and Lovino I said that," Matthew added with a wink. He returned his attention to the upstairs. "Alfred come down! I made pancakes. If you don't come down in time, I'll eat them again." A loud groan replied, and Matthew and Francis looked and snickered with each other. Loud stomping through the second story hallway and down the stairs to the living room drew Matthew and Francis's attention to the grumpy looking American that just arrived at the bottom of the staircase wearing a green Christmas sweater with a bald eagle designed on the front. Matthew tried to stifle his laughter but Francis didn't bother and snickered at Alfred's crossness. "What's wrong, bro? Everything okay?" Matthew inquired in an attempt to lift his brother's mood.

At this question, Alfred's face turned into a pout and he let out a dramatic sigh. "No, because my stupid computer won't let me install Zoo Tycoon 2 and now I'll never experience the joys of running my own zoo again." Francis smiled and rolled his eyes at the boy's dramatization of the matter, and Matthew tried to distract his brother with the simple reminder that breakfast for three was set at the table. Alfred's mood seemed to have lifted considerably.

The three sat themselves down at the petite table near the window that overlooked the lush green trees caked in snow. They were a few miles out from the populated city of Toronto and they had wanted, or at least Francis, Matthew, and Arthur did, to enjoy a quiet and calm Christmas. Matthew looked out at the serene view before him and smiled. Francis glanced at him and smiled at the proud look on Matthew's face. He had been so happy that the family had decided to spend Christmas in his homeland. Francis could say that it was an interesting experience. Matthew and Alfred trying to one up each other at skating, violent snowball fights between Francis and Arthur, an hour lecture from Matthew about why the beaver and moose were the two noblest animal in the world, Alfred whining about the cold, and the hours upon hours of baking...

As soon as they had sat down, Matthew and Alfred had gorged down on their pancakes, leaving Francis guffawing at their behavior. Alfred he could understand, but Matthew never really displayed the same horrific table manners as his brother. Well, unless of course if they were pancakes. Francis sighed, and began to eat his meal with much more grace than the two younger men before him.

Matthew paused his eating for a moment and looked up at the other two with something on his mind. "Do you think we should have waited for Arthur, I mean he just texted me saying that he just arrived at the airport, hailed a taxi, and should be here in about twenty minutes, but I don't know how he'll do in Christmas traffic.

Francis shrugged and said, "Serves him right for trusting a certain American with the task of keeping an eye on the Christmas presents while packing for the airport and thus forgetting them at his house."

Alfred nearly choked on his food and started to cough. "I resent that! Okay, mind you I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. Also, Arthur had given me a ton of crap for accidentally driving on the right side of the road instead of the "proper" side, so I was kind of feeling shitty, and-"

"It's okay, Alfred, we forgave you already. That's why Arthur already went to go get them," Matthew reassured. Alfred looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he just gave up with a sigh of defeat and continued to eat his flapjacks. Matthew snickered. "Boy Alfred, Zoo Tycoon really made you that upset? You usually don't drop a situation like that so quickly," Matthew teased.

Alfred looked up at Matthew with wide, visibly upset eyes. "Yes! Okay, you know what, I haven't played that thing in over five years, Matt. _ Five_. I thought that I had lost it forever and I was in deep despair, but then it turned up at Arthur's house like a week ago and I couldn't wait to play for the entire week. Caught up in suspense for the entire week, and all eager and really looking forward to making my own zoo, I put the disk in only to find that it can't install! I'm also upset because you guys won't let me throw another party!" Alfred huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, Francis replied, "Alfred, mon cher garçon, you are over exaggerating the situation, like always. And in response to your complaint about the party, let me remind you that you are still paying off last year's celebration, and I'm fairly certain Kiku isn't going to lend you any money this year."

"Dude, Francis, you are one to talk about over exaggeration. You dramatize everything!"

"Aw yes, but you see I do it with such style and chic that no one can ever compare" Francis replied matter-of-factly with a flip of his long wavy hair. Matthew giggled and Alfred tried to keep a scowl but he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth to go up into a small grin.

Now comfortable with the less hostile atmosphere, Matthew took a quick glance at Alfred's sweater and smiled. "I see that you're wearing the Christmas sweater I bought you. I knew you would love it," Matthew cheered.

Alfred looked down at his own sweater and smirked. "Not like I really had a choice, since I know you would freak out if I didn't wear it. Besides, you picked a good one for me this year. Thanks, man," Alfred replied and then noticed that Matthew himself was wearing a red sweater with a moose donning on a Santa hat. "I see you bought yet another Christmas sweater. Dang, Matt, how many do you own? You're fetish for Christmas sweaters nearly surpasses your ones for moose and maple syrup."

"It's not a fetish, Al!" Matthew cried.

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Francis laughed at the their little childish squabble but figured that it would be a good time to interject. "Matthieu, I am afraid that I am going to have to agree with Alfred on the matter. You have brought maple syrup into the bedroom before on several occasions, and then there was last week when you had wanted to wear antlers and-"

"Francis! Why are you talking about this at the breakfast table and in front of my brother of all people?!" Matthew cried, his face completely flushed with embarrassment. Alfred was already bent over the table dying of laughter. Francis also could barely contain himself and, noticing an endearing little frown and furrowed brow on his lover's face, reached out to rub Matthew's shoulder in an attempt to relax him.

"Oh, mon petit chou fleur, do not be upset. Because of you, I now know that _everything_ is much sweeter with maple syrup and that you were only trying to get into the Christmas spirit of things with the antlers, no?" Francis sang.

Matthew paused for a bit before finally grumbling, "You bet your ass it was," which earned a loud laugh and quick peck on the cheek from Francis. Matthew beamed, but then noticed something that just seemed a little out of place. "Babe, how come you're not wearing that cute little Christmas sweater I bought you?"

At this, Francis's joyous expression changed from startled to stoic in a matter of seconds. Glancing down and bringing his mug to his mouth before taking a sip, he said in an unconvincing tone, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Francis, don't play dumb. I know you knew that I had bought you an adorable red button up Christmas sweater with a cute little Christmas tree on the front."

"You accuse me of knowing such things, but I assure you, my darling, I know nothing!" Francis tried to press on, but it proved to be a feeble attempt.

"But _my dear_," Matthew spoke in a sugar sweet tone, "I had put it right on the foot of the bed last night so that I could remind you to wear it today on Christmas Eve," he finished with an overly sweet, fake smile to further drive the point.

"Oh, how sweet of you Matthieu, really, but I'm afraid I'm fully dressed in a perfectly fashionable, festive outfit that I couldn't possibly change out of," he justified.

"A grey, long sleeved shirt with a cutaway collar bought online from La Redoute is festive in no way whatsoever," Matthew retorted in a dry tone.

Francis had nothing to say back. He looked at Matthew, who was wearing a rather annoyed expression, and then to Alfred, who was looking rather uncomfortable and expectant. Francis sighed, avoided eye contact, and continued to eat his pancakes, hoping that Matthew would drop the issue. Francis loved Matthew, and he loved and supported many of the things that Matthew enjoyed, but ugly Christmas sweaters were not one of them. They may have looked cute on Matthew, but on everyone else, including Francis, they were an absolute eyesore. They were tacky, much too bright, the designs were ridiculous, and some were very itchy. If given the choice, Francis would burn every Christmas sweater on the planet.

Taking a quick break from his breakfast, Francis took a subtle glance upwards to see Alfred staring at him with a look that said "I-know-what-you're-feeling-bro." Francis then hesitantly turned his eyes towards Matthew, who was now glaring at him. Francis immediately returned his gaze to his pancakes, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. After a few seconds had gone by, a sharp clang of a fork being dropped on the table made Francis and Alfred nearly jump from their seats and look up at Matthew with startled expressions, who now had wide eyes and a determined, crazy expression on his face.

With a stern tone, Matthew commanded, "Francis Bonnefoy, look at me in the face right now. Please," he added quickly.

Francis, startled at Matthew's sporadic behavior, immediately lifted his head to look up into Matthew's eyes, which showed what Francis could best describe as anger. As soon as Matthew had Francis's attention, however, his eyes immediately softened and he pleaded, "Please Francis? Why won't you wear it?"

"Because they are unfashionable and I hate them!" he shouted.

Both Matthew and Alfred gasped. _ Merde, I think I went to far._  
"Francis, dude, you are kind of in the shit now," Alfred finally decided to throw his input into the conversation, but of course, it was at the wrong time. "Seriously though man, I experienced the same thing you did years back. I refused, Matthew gave me crap, I wore it for a couple of years, and look at me now."  
"It is not that simple! I have standards!"  
"Come on man! Even Arthur wore it!"  
"Which is another great reason why I should not wear those pieces of crap! Thank you, Alfred!"  
"Hey, that's not what I mea-."

"Shut up!" Matthew yelled, making both Francis's and Alfred's heart skip a beat. Francis turned to look at Matthew's face, and upon seeing it, he was overcome with guilt. He looked visibly upset, and he could see tears of frustration forming at the corners of his eyes. Making Matthew cry was the last thing Francis had wanted to do, but now he was just to do about that.

"Alfred, leave," Matthew barked.

"Can do," Alfred complied and leaped from his chair, grabbing his plate and making a mad dash to the living room. Francis gulped. He knew he had gone too far. Why didn't he take Matthew's feelings into account? He was too wound up in his own hatred for the damn sweaters, that the thought of him actually hurting Matthew's feelings never occurred to him. The fact that he actually did made him feel like walking off a bridge. Before Francis could even apologize for doing such a thing, Matthew said something first.

"Look, I know you hate them, but you didn't have to be such a pompous ass about it," Matthew's eyes widened and he quickly slapped a hand around his mouth as if he had just uttered some horrible insult. "I'm so sorry Francis, that was cruel, I didn't mean to say that I just-."

" Shh, no Mathieu, you had every right. I was being as you said. 'A pompous ass.' And I sincerely apologize. Can you forgive me, mon petit chou fleur?" Francis gently inquired. Matthew hesitated for a moment, taking time to make a decision when finally he smiled and laughed.

"It's okay, babe. I guess I overreacted. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and I just kind of blew up. I'm sorry, dear. I should probably tell Alfred I'm sorry for scaring him out of the kitchen."

At this, Francis laughed. "I'm sure he will be fine. Although, I haven't seen him move that fast ever since that time we were camping in the woods and I told him that weird skinny man with no face wearing the the fancy suit was following him."

"Did you just compare me to Slender Man?" Matthew chuckled. "You probably think he dresses better than me."

"Oh, Mathieu, just because I do not like the sweaters does not mean that I do not find you absolutely drop dead sexy in one," Francis clarified.

Matthew gave his partner one wary glance. "Drop dead sexy? Francis, these things are cute, but they don't really have the biggest sex appeal."

Francis let out a rather suggestive laugh, and inched forward toward Matthew. "Well they are when they are on you, mon coeur. Especially when you wear it with," at this point, Francis's lips were right at Matthew's ears, "no pants."

Matthew let out a startled laugh, and a prominent blush spread on his cheeks. He then wound his arms around Francis's waist and pulled him onto his lap. "You're such a dirty old man." He teased.

"Only for you, mon petit chou," Francis whispered, his hand now cupping the side of Matthew's face.

Before the two could kiss, the kitchen door slammed opened and in came a disgruntled and exhausted Arthur holding several bags of presents and an ecstatic Alfred following close behind. Upon the sight of Francis and Matthew, Arthur cringed. "If you two insist on shagging in this house while Alfred and I are here, would you mind not doing it in the kitchen. Whatever disease Francis has, I really don't want it, thank you."

Francis twisted his face into a coy smirk and snarked back, "Whatever disease I have, you most certainly have it to, _rosbif_."

"Okay, first off, no. And secondly, why in God's name do you always call me that? I honestly do not understand why."

Stumped, Francis replied, "You know, I really do not know. Something about the Portuguese calling you a steak or something? You know what, I think I'll just stop calling you that now."

"Well then Bob's your uncle, thanks old chap." Arthur stumbled around, so close to falling into unconsciousness."I am so tired. Alfred, be a dear and grab the blasted presents that you had so conveniently forgotten at my home all the way in England that I had to go all the way back for so this Christmas wouldn't be as big of a disaster."

"Great to have you back, honey," Alfred grumbled. "Here, just drop the presents." Arthur complied and Alfred easily picked him up bridal style. Arthur, too tired to protest, eased his head against Alfred's shoulder and succumbed to the seducing state of sleep. Alfred looked and winked at Francis and Matthew, and whispered, "I'll just tuck this sleepy Brit in bed and let you two get back to whatever you were doing. Although I do request that you don't have sex in the kitchen because that's where I eat, and I don't want your sex germs all up on the counters and cabinets. Later, dudes." And with that, Alfred left the two by themselves yet again.

Francis huffed, and looked back at Matthew. "We should have sex in the kitchen anyways."

"Francis..." Matthew sighed.

"Oh come on, Matthieu! Where is your streak of defiance? This is your home after all," Francis asserted. He wasn't serious, and he deduced that he would only do it because Arthur and Alfred told him not to. Still, the idea was kind of appealing, but Matthew of course, refused.

"Francis, now is not the time to be thinking of sex, although I might change my mind if you were to do one little thing for me," Matthew smirked.

"Oh? And what is that, mon petit chou fleur?" Francis mused.

"I don't know, I guess maybe the sweater..." Matthew trailed off.

Immediately, Francis jumped out of Matthew's lap and gaped down at Matthew, who just wore a look of innocence as if he didn't know what he just did. He was both offended that Matthew was still on the subject of the fashion disaster and slightly impressed that he was using his sexuality to get what he wanted. The boy was growing up.

"Matthieu, I can't believe you!" Francis exclaimed. "I thought we had dropped that issue."

Rubbing the back of his head and laughing lightly, Matthew justified his actions,

"Well technically we never dropped it, you just insulted it until I got mad, you apologized, we were cuddling, Alfred and Arthur came in, and now we're here. Oh, and I think Arthur was wearing a sweater."

"Okay, now you're just lying."

"No, it's true! I swear! I think it was dark blue with weird mint green bunny on it or something."

"Nice try, my dear. It's not going to happen," Francis smirked.

"Please, dear. Please wear the sweater," Matthew pleaded in the most sincere and gentle voice he could muster. Francis had to look down to see a pair of two large twilight skies begging him to put on the sweater. The puppy dog look. _My God. Really, Matthew? Why?_ Francis knew he could never resist his love's wishes once he made that face. Francis tried, oh he tried, to look away, but he could feel them boring into the back of his head.

Francis was hesitant, but he finally gave in. "Argh! Fine! I will wear the ridiculous sweater if it will make you happy! No sex requirement, I will just wear the damn thing. Happy?" he all but exclaimed.

Matthew leapt up with joy, a big dopey smile on his face, and he wrapped his slender Frenchman in a big bear hug. "Thank you,_ mon petit chou fleur_," he cheered as he planted a big, passionate kiss right on Francis's lips. Matthew pulled his face away to see a blush of Francis's own plastered right on his face.

"Joyeux Noël, mon coeur," Francis whispered.

_End_

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_Merry Christmas, Zoe and everyone who enjoyed this story! And have a Happy New Year!_

Translations

Père Noël - Father Christmas

mon petit chou fleur - French term of endearment that literally translates to "my little cauliflower"

mon petit chou - Another French term of endearment that literally translates to "my little cabbage"

mon cher garçon - my dear boy

rosbif - roast beef. This is actually an inside joke with Q Scott, the person this fic was dedicated to. We wonder why people have Francis use this term when referring to Arthur. I actually looked it up to find that "rosbif" is an actual term used by the French to describe people from Britain, and also that the Portuguese call the British something that literally translates to "steak."

mon coeur - my heart

merde - shit

"Joyeux Noël - Merry Christmas

Other notes:

La Redoute is just some French site that I found with fashionable clothes. Also in case you didn't know already, the French use shoes instead of stockings and Christmas trees originated in Germany.


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